Hanging With the Wrong Crowd
by willwrite4fics
Summary: Beachhead captured and held by Cobra. Will the Joes rescue him or will he strangle before help can come? A little dark in tone, nothing graphic.
1. Chapter 1

Here's something different. Beachhead captured by Cobra, what torment will they think up? Contains soft torture, no gore, no blood really.

Setting: After a vicious battle with Cobra and Joe forces clashing, Beachhead wakes up...

* * *

BeachHead coughed slightly and struggled to open his eyes. Dust and grit ground across his eyeridge as he turned his head slightly. Clamping his lips shut on any further coughing, he tried to blink enough to clear his vision. Getting them open didn't enlighten him to much, only that he was in a transport as he felt a jostle underneath him. Ground vehicle? Listening didn't help, as his ears still rang from the explosion that was his last memory. Other than a faint ringing inside his head, he was surrounded by silence.

Hazarding moving a bit, he eased his arm from under himself, then turned his head carefully. It looked like he was inside the back of a cargo truck, heavy vibrations and rough movement telling him it was moving at a decent clip. A body dressed in a greenshirt uniform lay across from him and he twisted around to look. A sudden weight on his neck made him freeze momentarily. Someone had a boot on the back of his neck, pinning him down. Since a Joe would hardly step on his head with him wounded and down, he felt it probably would be okay to attempt to kill whoever was attached to the boot.

Reaching up to wrap a hand around the ankle, he surged up. Throwing the trooper over him to one side, he struggled to get himself to his feet but ended up back on the floor, stunned by a sudden sharp blow to his head from a second Cobra behind him. Balaclavas might hide his features, but did little to soften the blow from a rifle butt. Rolling over onto his side, he kicked out hard, connecting to a knee and feeling a great deal of satisfaction at the sight of the leg bending in an unnatural direction. The Cobra trooper's mouth opened in a scream he couldn't hear. As he collapsed, BeachHead struggled back to his feet, grappling with the first trooper. He was shoved across the cargo area into the side, crashing into the metal beams with his back hard enough to stun him again. Completely disoriented by his deafness, Beach went down hard, kicking desperately as a third Cobra helped to secure his wrists with a set of handcuffs. After he managed to kick one of them rather solidly, they produced rope to bind him.

Trussed up with enough rope to at least temporarily stymie even a ninja, BeachHead struggled fruitlessly, cursing at his captors even though he could barely hear his own voice. That he could hear it at all reassured him that his hearing was probably gone just from the explosion.. soon to return. Assuming that he wasn't shot by Cobra out of hand for crippling at least one of their troops.

He watched the two guards discussing something.. probably him and whether they'd get into too much trouble for shooting him rather than just guarding him. Wrenching himself around onto his side, he tried to kick at them with his bound legs and got one of them in the ankle. While that one hopped sideways and used bad language from the mouth motions, the other one finally had had enough and booted him in the chest. Cursing as loudly as possible, he began to hear a muffled version of his voice from his left ear as some of his hearing returned.

The one he'd kicked came over and dragged his facemask off taking a bit of hair with it, saying a lot of things he couldn't hear. He growled lowly and thrashed trying to kick at him again.

"Ya dumb Cobra scum! I can't HEAR!" That confounded them and they stood to the side to discuss it with a lot of arm waving and pointing. He took the opportunity to scoot towards the back of the truck. His movements were not unnoticed.

When he reached the doors and began to kick them, one trooper walked over and grabbed him by one arm to drag him back. BeachHead promptly bit him on the wrist. The trooper promptly kicked him in the head.

Feeling distinctly woozy, the Ranger was dumped back where he'd started out and the guard kicked him once more, just to bring home the point that he wasn't to move around any more. His attempt to roll away made one of the troopers put a foot on his chest and pin him in place. They had more discussions, all of which sounded like a low hum to his abused ears.

Finally the trooper he'd bitten reached down to grab him by his hair and picked his head up. With loud exaggerated yells he tried to impart some sort of message. Unable to hear a single word clearly, BeachHead nonetheless understood it was most likely something to do with 'stop trying to kill us or we'll kick you in the head some more'. He cocked his head sideways and furrowed his brow, miming an expression that said he couldn't hear him. Gritting his teeth, the hapless Cobra operative leaned in closer to shout practically in his face.. and the Ranger promptly headbutted him.

While he staggered back, clutching at his bloody nose, Beach swung his legs into the oncoming trooper's, causing him to fall over. Within a moment or two, he was subdued by the simple expedient of both other Cobra troops sitting on him. His screaming invective didn't seem to bother them, but it helped clear his ears a bit.

Eventually the truck stopped and the back door opened up. Beach watched the new troopers exchanging jibs with the three rather battered ones guarding him. He quieted as they checked the prone greenshirt. The limp body showed no signs of life and Beach struggled to raise up to be able to see to identify his deceased greenshirt.

Two of the Cobra grabbed him up by his bound arms and ankles. As they dragged him down the truck, he stared after, almost desperate to at least know which of his recruits had died. "No! NO! Leggo!" His muted shouts didn't bother them. His breath was knocked out of him when they tossed him out of the truck onto the ground a good five feet below. Laying in the dirt, he struggled to breathe, letting out soft panting coughs that didn't gain him enough oxygen. While he grayed out, he was dragged to a different vehicle and loaded in with another toss. A heavy tarp landed over him and he struggled to kick it off. The blow to his head finished stealing his consciousness.

* * *

Waking up again, he opened his eyes, fancying that he heard a creak as he pried them open. Water spritzed into his face, making him blink.

"Wake up.." Surprised that he could hear again, he tilted his face to peer at a Crimson Guard bending over him. "Finally.. he's awake." He disappeared from view and Beachhead tried to sit up. His wrists were still secured behind him with the tight metal cuffs from what he could tell. Futile struggles showed him that the entire coil of rope was still being used to bind him snugly as well.

A burly Crimson Guardsman came and bent over him, carefully out of head-butting range. Dragging the Ranger to a seated position on the floor, he put a boot onto BeachHead's legs to pin them down, keeping himself safe from any kicks.

"What's your name, Joe?"

He clamped his jaw tight, glaring up at the hidden face under the mask.

"You're going to make me hurt you for the information I want, aren't you?" The voice didn't sound all that displeased over the idea and BeachHead wrenched at his legs trying to get loose. "Oh no.. not gonna be any of that kicking." Reaching to take him by the front of his armor, the Cobra quickly had it unbuckled and tossed aside piece by piece. "Now.. one more time.. name?" When he refused to answer, a heavy boot slung him over onto his back and pinned him to the floor by his throat.

"Hissss name isss BeachHead." All heads turned to see Cobra Commander himself standing to the side. "Isssn't that right?" He stalked over to circle the downed Joe. "Fourth in command, tendency towards smelling bad and killing a great deal of my troops... yessss?"

"Not enough of 'em.. obviously." Beach could barely croak the words out past the boot on his throat.

One of the guards spoke up. "He's a ninja."

Spitting angrily, the Ranger struggled under the boot. "I ain't no ninja! Take that back!"

The guard glared at him. "He was wearing a mask.. like a ninja. He'll probably escape."

Cobra Commander threw his hands up. "He'sss not a ninja.. I wear a masssk, I'm not a ninja! Why am I surrounded by morons?"

A bit satisfied to have his non-ninja status confirmed, BeachHead went back to fruitlessly struggling.

The Crimson Guard leaned to put more pressure on his throat, making him choke and arch up. After a minute of the world deciding to turn into a hazy indistinct fog, he could suddenly breathe again.

The Commander leaned over him. "Put him in a sssecure cell. I'm certain we'll come up with a use for him." Starting to leave, he stopped at the last second. "Make sssure to noose him, we'll see if he can break the record before he talksss. Unless of course the Joes decide to ransom him back." With that the hissing psychopath left, and the guards all looked at the Ranger lying on his back still tied securely.

One of the blue clad troopers hefted his rifle and looked around. "How sure are we that he ain't really a ninja?"

Another one shrugged. "Cobra Commander said he wasn't."

"Cobra Commander isn't the one down here with him, just waiting to get his throat slit when he escapes."

"True.. " Beach caught a boot to his ribs. "Hey! Are you a ninja?"

He growled again. "I told ya I ain't no ninja. And if I was a ninja, would I admit ta bein' a ninja?"

A few of the guards exchanged glances. "So.. you are a ninja?"

"No, he's not a ninja.. "

"But he said if he WAS a ninja, he wouldn't admit to being a ninja, and he didn't admit to being a ninja, so that means he is a ninja."

Beach rolled his eyes. "Gawd.. ya'll make Shipwreck look like a Mensa candidate."

"What's he mean by that? Are there Mensa ninjas?"

"Isn't that the ones that StormShadow was complaining about getting his contracts in Hong Kong?"

The Crimson Guard finally hefted Beach to drag him down the hallway. "Good lord.. I'm going to secure the prisoner before I just shoot all of you for being too stupid to keep using up valuable oxygen."

BeachHead sighed at him. "Thanks.. I was gonna start beating my head against the floor.. hopefully I'd knock myself out a'fore any more of my braincells died from bein' exposed ta that much 'dumb'."

"Oh shut up. You won't be so pleased a few days from now. That's if you don't just strangle to death because you give out sooner." The guard yelled at another trooper to open up the door. Dragged into a square cell, Beach was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor.

Rolling himself over, he watched them fiddling about with a chain that ran through an eyebolt on the ceiling.

One of the troopers eyed him. "Who's gonna lift him up and take off the ropes?" There was silence as no one volunteered to get near the homicidal Ranger. "Alright.. rock-paper-scissors..."

The other trooper stuck out his hand. "One, two, three.. aww.. crap."

All smiles now, the first one slapped his hand. "Rock breaks scissors.. leave his hands cuffed."

"Great.. I get all the best duties." The trooper glumly stepped over and BeachHead grinned up at him. "Look.. you kick me or headbutt me and I swear, I'll kick you in the balls so hard, you'll spit them out your mouth.. got it?" Beach stopped grinning. "Okay then.. " He sliced through the ropes wrapped around his legs and stepped back. "No kicking.. I mean it!" Coming around behind the prone Ranger, he dragged him up to his feet holding onto his arms tightly. Beach shook his head trying to dislodge the loop of chain that dropped over his head. "There.." Turned loose, BeachHead whirled, trying to kick out and getting snatched backwards by the chain tightening around his throat. Everyone backed up out of range and watched him as he staggered and found his footing.

"Bastards." He glared at them all. "Let me go! Get this danged leash offa me!" He shook his head, trying to dislodge it. When he tried to bend over, it tightened enough to choke him until he straightened up. "Whaddaya think this is gonna break me! Jus' cause you put me onna leash? Ya'll are stupider than ya look!"

The Crimson Guard reached to the side where the end of the chain attached to the wall with a simple snap. Clicking it a few links tighter to prevent the prisoner from being able to even bend over, he put a casual hand on the chain and leaned on it heavily. The noose tightened and Beach raised up on his tiptoes struggling to get enough slack to breathe. The eyebolt overhead didn't even quiver with the weight of the large man suspended from it.

"Now.. you behave.. and try to just stand quietly. We'll keep an eye on you.. but if you fall down, you gotta get yourself back up. Otherwise, we'll just let you strangle slowly. After all.. Cobra Commander didn't say to keep you alive specifically." He let up on the chain and BeachHead gasped and coughed. "So.. you have fun.." He turned and left, ignoring BeachHead's hoarse cursing.

The two troops watched him for a few minutes. "So.. you think he'll escape?"

"No. Only a ninja could get out of this.. I'll bet even a ninja would have issues.. unless they got their hands loose.. then they'd be loose nearly instantly."

"Check his hands.. those cuffs are secure right?"

"Yeah. You go check them if you're so worried."

"Naaaaah. I'm sure if he was a ninja.. he'd already have killed both of us." With that, the two idiotic troops left, closing the door behind them with a loud click.

Once they were out, Beach turned a circle, searching for some way out, or a way to get the noose off his neck. He found blank walls and a blank floor, only one small narrow horizontal window set high up on one wall. There was a diffuse light showing through the dirty opaque glass. He didn't quite get the idea of chaining him in the center of the room, chained to the ceiling of all things. He certainly was secure however. He couldn't do anything but stand in the middle of the room.

Sighing, he oriented himself to the small window and settled into a relaxed stance, feet spread slightly apart and head tilted up a little bit. Staring at nothing while doing nothing was in itself a bit of a torment to him. Bored almost immediately, he sighed and stretched his shoulders upwards as best he could with his hands cuffed behind his back. Working his wrists a little bit, he felt the metal biting into his flesh. They didn't loosen in the least and he finally stopped and settled to just stand there staring at the wall.

Listening, he closed his eyes and held his breath to see if he could hear anything. The faintest bit of conversation came through the walls but carefully as he listened, he couldn't make sense of the mumbles. Shifting his weight to one leg, he swung the other back and forth, then repeated the action with the other one.

"Alright.. " He turned around again, as if the room might have changed at some point. "Great.. jus' great.."

* * *

Hours later, he started to sing to himself under his breath. Running through his entire repertoire of songs, he even resorted to singing One Hundred Bottles of Beer. When he started to get hoarse, he watched the light dimming in the window and sighed.

"HEY! HEEEY!" His shouts didn't bring a jailer to look at him and after three hours of shouting, screaming, insulting and just plain out and out cursing at the top of his lungs.. he lost his voice enough to shut up. Normally just yelling would never have made him lose his voice and he spent a few hours thinking over whether he had enough damage to his throat to affect his voice. Between the boot applied to his neck twice, and the choking with his chain noose, his neck was already bruised and his airway felt swollen. It was difficult for him to even swallow his own spit, and there was precious little of it.

He tilted his head down to look at his booted feet. Arching his back, he tried to get his wrists low enough to see if he could get his leg over them.. with his hands in front of him he could remove the noose easily. The chain tightened around his neck repeatedly as he tried to twist himself around. If he could just bend over, he could have gotten a leg through his arms and ... and that was useless, because he couldn't bend over.

"Grrrrragh..." Yanking to the side, he jerked at the chain with his neck, stopping only when he became dizzy enough to worry about passing out. If he passed out, he died, simple enough. If he couldn't stand up, he died. Taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly, he tried to calm himself.

His right leg went numb and he walked in a circle as best as he could. Standing still never seemed like a real torment, other than being bored standing guard duty. He'd stood at attention for hours before. "Nuthin' to it." The raspy voice quit on him again and he sighed and went back to standing and watching the now dark window.

* * *

The window finally lightened and he simply stared at it, waiting with his mind settled into a holding pattern. A form of trance, his breathing slowed and his body relaxed as much as possible and still remain standing.

The first twinge of a cramp flicked through the calf of his left leg and he leaned on it to rock back and forth slowly, stretching the muscles carefully, trying to work the cramp out without making it sore. It slowly went away and he sighed and rolled his shoulders as much as his bound hands allowed.

Trying to not think about his rumbling stomach, he stared at the window as the light dimmed and faded again.

After a while he closed his eyes and thought about his fellow soldiers. He should have spent more free time with Courtney. He should have gotten that stupid music cd back to Scarlett. How long before they even would realize he wasn't among the dead? How bad had the explosion been, maybe his body was assumed lost? Was anyone looking for him? Courtney would look for him. She wouldn't let anyone leave his body behind. Well.. he wasn't a body because he wasn't dead yet, he was busy being chained up like a dog.

He twisted his wrists in the cuffs and winced. They were getting rubbed raw already and he needed to try to not move them. No matter how many times he twisted them around, they still wouldn't come loose, and his hands certainly didn't fit through them. If he WERE a ninja, he was certain that the cuffs would last all of two seconds. When he got back to the Pit, SnakeEyes was gonna teach him how to get out of the stupid things.

He leaned forward trying to ease the increasing pain in his back and took a long deep breath. If he got back to the Pit. Right now, he didn't see a way out.

* * *

Beachhead's eyes sagged shut. He snatched his head up and shook it. "Awake.. I'm awake." He yawned widely and suddenly jumped as the door latch clacked loudly. His jump made his leg cramp and it collapsed under him, dropping him down and he was dangled at the end of the noose, strangling and kicking to get upright on his feet again. The chain cut into his airway and pinched off most of the blood supply to his brain, causing him to gag and watch the world begin to go red.

When he regained his footing and stood, coughing and sucking in air, he blinked and looked up at the Crimson Guardsman.

"You gonna live? Cause I'm here to ask you if you're ready to tell us whatever we want to ask about?"

"Kiss my ass." He glared.

They shrugged and one came forward with a small cup. "Water ration.. try to kick me and I'll pour it on the floor." He nodded and the trooper stepped up cautiously and held the cup for him to drink it down. He briefly considered that it might be laced with drugs, but it was drink possibly-drugged water or start dying of thirst. Once the cup was empty, the Cobra troop stepped back out and left him facing the Crimson Guard. He busied himself licking his lip to make certain he hadn't missed any drops.

"Do I get any food?" His voice sounded hoarse still.

"No." His guard shrugged. "Unless you want to talk?"

"Ain't happenin'. Ya'll might as well cut me loose as think I'm gonna talk." Beach wished his voice wasn't cracked and hoarse, but at least he could get words out.

"Legs getting cramps in them yet? You know.. the last guy lasted a few days before they starting collapsing under him. But in the end, he strangled to death when he couldn't stand up any longer." A casual shrug. "I think you'll outlast him, so don't make me lose my cash in the betting pool."

"Screw you." Beach watched him disappear, watched the door close shut with the loud clang. Letting his shoulders sag, he lowered his face towards his chest and sighed heavily. Suddenly he lifted his face to yell at the door. "Bring me a burger with extra mustard.. and a shake! Ya'll never get my order right!"

* * *

At irregular intervals, guards might bring him a small amount of water. He'd only managed to kick one guard seriously, losing his footing and nearly blacking out before he could get upright. He was pretty certain that guard was out cold from the boot to the head he'd dealt out.

He watched the window compulsively, keeping a count of the days in his head. Other than watching the light brighten and fade, there wasn't anything else to look at. When he had a voice, he sang songs to himself and spent half a day running through every commercial jingle he could think of. Determined to drive anyone listening to his cell mad one day, he spent the entire time from sunup to sundown singing a Million Bottles of Beer.

Sleep deprivation set in and he kept seeing shadows lurking in the corner of his eye. He would turn a circle looking for something, whatever made the creepy shadows. At one point he was convinced it was ninjas and then that it was SnakeEyes playing a prank on him by staying just out of sight behind him. He'd managed to wind his chain until it tightened up on his neck. Only then had he come to his senses and carefully turned a circle repeatedly until it loosened up.

His shoulders were bunched up painfully, the unnatural position enforced by his cuffed wrists making cramps form in the powerful muscles. Without having the freedom to move his arms, he suffered the pain helplessly. His entire spine was creaking it was so stiff, and his legs.. well.. between the multiple cramps, the deep seated aching pain in his knees, and the wobbly nature of them due to intermittent numbness, he was beginning to think the guy chained like this before him might have just dropped and strangled deliberately to make the pain just stop.

That guy wasn't a Army Ranger. BeachHead was. When he dropped it would be because he couldn't stand any longer. Not because he gave up. His Joe team would be searching for him, he had to believe it. He glanced up at the window and saw it getting dim out again.

"HEY GUYS! YOU CAN COME GET ME NOW!" His hoarse yell went unanswered as always.

* * *

He began to catch himself falling asleep on his feet finally. He'd shake himself all over, struggling to become alert. Then slowly his eyes would shut, his head would begin to tilt over.. and he'd begin to sway just a little bit. As the sway got worse, one of his legs would start to shake and eventually it buckled, yanking his weight against the chain noose and making him choke and cough until he stood up again. At least once he'd fallen and half-suffocated himself, he was awake for a while.

He blinked at the window. He wished something would move outside. Anything. Even a curious Cobra guard peeping in would be something different. Other than an occasional water ration, he didn't see anyone, didn't hear anyone.

Suddenly paniced, he looked around the room. How many days had he been here? He'd lost count.. and it was extremely important that he remember how many days it had been. The only thing he could do was watch to see when it got dark to keep a count and now he couldn't remember.

Panting and rocking back and forth, he struggled to remember what the last count had been. Was it eighteen days? Could he have been standing for eighteen days? That would be some sort of world record he was pretty certain. It was a damned long time to him. Maybe the Joes had written him off. Hawk wouldn't allow any ransom for a captured Joe, not even if it was a faithful Sergeant major. Not even if it had been Duke or even one of the female troops. After all the years, BeachHead was more likely to free himself than be rescued.. not like SnakeEyes of course, but then he was a ninja.. and ninjas never counted. They skewed all the grade curves, ruining things for good honest soldiers.

"Danged ninjas.. like freaky monkeys.. always doin' stuff.." He tilted his head up and closed his eyes, trying to stretch his back. Then he slumped forwards until his leash snugged itself down. He'd come to find exactly how far he could move before the chain became incapacitating.

He looked up at the window again. He'd stand here and stare at it until it got dark. Then maybe he'd think of something different to do. Maybe he'd take a run around the compound.. that'd be nice..

* * *

End Chapter.

Will he be rescued? Will he last long enough? Are the Joes looking for him? What next?


	2. Well Hung

Well, doesn't seem as if this is all that popular. It's going to get posted pretty quickly anyway though.. here's part 2, part 3 will go up tomorrow.

* * *

Back at Joe headquarters...

Hawk snarled at the console display. "GI Joe doesn't pay terrorists! Give us our man back or we'll destroy you!"

Cobra Commander sneered at him. "Oh yesss... because you haven't been trying to do that for yearssss! Oh I'm ssssoooo worried now!" He gestured off-screen. "Sssince you don't sssseeem to value your sergeant, I'll let you ssssee how he'sss doing."

A secondary screen flickered to life and Hawk frowned at the figure standing in the center of a otherwise bare room. "BeachHead! You crazy bastard! What are you doing to him!" He didn't even glance to the side where Mainframe was frantically tracing down the computer signal.

The Commander laughed. "Well.. let's sssseeeee! I haven't been doing anything to him! He's just ssstanding there.. harmlessss right? Oh.. he'sss been ssstanding there for the passsst week.. the entire time. So while you've been happily drinking your morning coffee? He'sss been there. Sssitting at your desssk? He'sss sssstanding.." He leaned into the camera dramatically. "Do you begin to grassssp what I'm sssaying?"

"Yeah.. you're a sadistic monster. I get that loud and clear. Let him go." Hawk's jaw set in a tight line. He tried not to wince as the small figure wobbled and suddenly jerked upright again. The movement made him notice the line tied around his neck.. going to the ceiling so he couldn't sit or even kneel. "You're torturing him!"

"Yesss... I am, am I not? A rather cruel way to die.. I feel. Once he can't keep himself upright, he'll ssstrangle sssslowly.. very sssslowly. No quick neck snapssss here. No no. It'll take sseveral very long momentsss." He sat back with a satisfied air. "No ransssom, no returning of the prisssoner. But jusst to ssshow my generosssity.. I'll leave thisss live feed up for you to watch him die.. how'sss that for fair?" The maniacal laughter built in volume until the communications was suddenly shut down in a dramatic flourish.

Hawk whirled on Mainframe. "Is the live camera still on?" He rushed to check. "Can you track it? Tell us where he is?"

"I'm trying.. I'm trying. They reroute all their signals through half a dozen different places, and bounce it off a satellite." The programmer's fingers raced over his keyboards and switches.

"Greenshirt Stevens.. get Doc up here and get Flint and Duke up here to command central too. We need to organize a raiding party.. " Hawk's voice was grim. "We haven't got a lot of time. He doesn't look like he'll last much longer."

* * *

Hawk was pacing around the command room, Flint standing in the background. Mainframe was closing in on the location, for the fifth time. The other times had been dead ends.

Flint suddenly leaned to look at the video feed. "There.. that little window he's staring at. It's going dark again."

Hawk came to look. "So? Can we figure out where he is by using that as the time for sundown?"

Flint shook his head, frowning and looking grim. "No.. because it's not a window to the outside. It's artificial, Sir." He glanced at his watch. "It's changing on a six hour schedule.. not a twenty-four hour schedule. It's not the sunlight outside the room."

The general stepped back. "Why would they do that? Why make a fake.. those sorry.." He gritted his teeth. "They're making him think it's been even longer than it has. He's watching the window because he thinks that's how he can tell time.. it's the only thing in there to tell him how long it's been."

Growling in anger at the perversity of the torture, the warrant officer nodded. "Sensory deprivation.. the human body will seize on whatever it has available.. he thinks that's the end of a full day.. every time it goes dark, he thinks it's been twenty-four hours. That's really sadistic.. they've made a real effort to think up how to make something simple into a real torment."

Hawk leaned over Mainframe. "Any progress?" He sucked in a breath. "Sorry.. never mind. I know if you'd found him you'd tell us. Is there any way to get audio through the live feed?"

A glance and a few switches and Mainframe clicked a toggle. "This might feed you through to the room's speaker.. not sure. There's no microphone in the room that I see right off." He turned back to his tracing.

Hawk leaned to speak into the mic on their end. "BeachHead!" He watched for any reaction. "Sergeant major!" There was a slight lift to the head. The Ranger was facing slight away and he couldn't see his face, but he could see the jaw working as he spoke. "I can't hear you BeachHead.. but we're coming to get you out. Stay frosty, we're coming."

He saw the sergeant looking around with a bewildered expression. "Beach.. we're here.. we're hacking into the computer security feeds.. don't go to sleep.. just a while longer, and we'll come get you."

He saw a hesitant nod. "Good.. good."

Mainframe yelped in triumph and grabbed up a readout as it printed. "Got them! Here.. here!"

Hawk snatched it up and whirled on Flint. "Take your team.. go get him before he collapses." The warrant officer grabbed it and looked at the location.

He headed out immediately, taking SnakeEyes, Dusty and Roadblock along with Kamakura and Jinx. Lifeline had already gone to the transport plane with a medical pack. Hawk stood for a second trying to calculate the transport time.

"He's got to last until they get there to rescue him." He went back to check the video feed. "Beach.. you have to stay alert." Watching, he saw the nod, and could see his mouth moving. "I can't hear you.. there's no microphone. Is my voice loud?" Beach shook his head. "Good. Can the guards hear?" Another head shake. "Good. I'm glad to see you alive, Sergeant major."

The figure on the screen grinned suddenly and Hawk tried to lipread what he said. He figured it was something typically snarky about Rangers never dying on duty or the equivalent.

Hawk took a deep breath. "Stand easy Beach. Just a while longer." He watched the nod. Beach was listing to one side and wobbling already, although they could see him making an effort to appear okay. "Stay awake Beach. They're coming."

* * *

Beach tilted his head to the side and watched the ceiling sway around over his head. Wait... he was swaying.. not the ceiling. His eyes blinked several times and suddenly he fell sideways and had to catch himself before his noose tightened. The disembodied voice chimed in again with useless instructions for him to stand up and not fall over. If he had a choice about it, he wouldn't fall over. The fact that his poor exhausted brain had decided to make his inner voice sound like Hawk was just cruel. If Hawk knew he was here, Hawk would come get him out.

He stared at the door and watched it grow blurry. His gaze slid down to the floor under his boots.. and then they also grew blurry and indistinct. Maybe he was dissolving. Head drooping forward he slowly let his eyes close, his breathing deepened despite the burning in his throat from the damage already done to it.

"Beach! Wake up!"

That irritating inner voice intruded again and he lifted his lip in a snarl. He was tired. Tired of not sleeping, tired of standing, tired of being thirsty..

"BEACH! Stand up!"

How could his stupid inner voice get louder? It really wasn't fair for him to torment himself. At least he could just be tormented by the stupid Cobra troops. When were they bringing his water ration anyway? Coughing heavily, he rolled his head around on his sore neck and huffed a few breaths to oxygenate himself more. Unconsciously twisting his wrists, he felt the skin tearing and stopped himself. Instead he rocked back and forth, stretching as best he could and trying to unkink the cramped muscles in his back. When his leg collapsed unexpectedly, he felt the slamming blow to his neck as his full weight hung from the chain noose. He simply hung there for a few seconds feeling confused before his body automatically began to struggle. Despite his struggling, he began to black out and finally got his feet underneath him to stand back up shakily. He stumbled a bit but eventually managed to get himself upright to cough and gulp at the air. There was some distant muttering noise through the walls and he tried to shout out to them. He was afraid his hoarse croaking didn't carry far.

"Beach! Sergeant major you stand up! Get on your feet! There! There.. just.. just stand up. Good."

Taking a deep breath, Beach did his best to tune out the hallucination. The last thing he needed now was to listen to imaginary voices. Especially irritatingly useless ones. If it was useful it could tell him how to get out or tell someone else to come get him out. His back spasmed unexpectedly as he tried to straighten up more and he whimpered as his legs buckled again.

* * *

Hawk cursed loudly as BeachHead collapsed yet again. "Where are they! You said they arrived! Why aren't they in there!"

Breaker shook his head and pointed at the screen. "They're in the compound.. Flint reports they are in the prison area now, with Kamakura and Roadblock holding the exit lanes. Lifeline and Jinx are in the aircraft waiting for the team to return." He pointed to a rough sketch of the proposed layout from some of the old records he'd dug out of the city building inspection offices. "Flint, Dusty and SnakeEyes should be right in here.. headed in to where Beach is being held. They have to be within minutes."

Hawk shook his head. "He doesn't HAVE minutes..." Reaching to switch to the strike team's frequency, he barked sharply to his team. "Flint.. Beach is down.. get to him NOW!"

* * *

End Chapter

Oh nooo.. will Flint's team rescue Beach in time? Tune in for the next part!


	3. Rescued Ranger

Final chapter! It's nice and long too.

* * *

Flint cursed under his breath as Hawk's shouted orders made his ear ring. "Understood sir.. we're moving in." He ducked as bullet strikes made shards of the wall flew up into his face. The Cobra troops were only falling back slowly and reluctantly. They were spending massive amounts of ammunition trying to hit the dark wraith of SnakeEyes as he appeared and sliced up another quartet of soldiers, only to leap up into the ceiling crevices and disappear.

Flint signaled Dusty and they moved out into the corridor, firing on the Cobras as they twisted to deal with the ninja that dropped onto them. A few tried to take on the two attacking Joes and were cut down easily by the katana wielded expertly in their midst. Dusty picked his shots as carefully as possible to avoid hitting his teammate. Flint fired low, dropping several enemy with leg shots, easier to avoid his ninja trooper who moved so fluidly through the paniced bodies.

He lifted his voice to carry above the mayhem. "Dusty! Hawk says Beach is down! Start checking these doors! Find him!"

"I'm on it!" Dusty wrapped his rifle strap around his arm and hefted it one handed as he darted along the wall, grabbing at the blank doorways. Popping them open with a kick or yank, he poked his head in, rifle at the ready, checking each of the seemingly endless rooms.

Hawk's voice crackled in Flint's ear. "NOW Flint! He's strangling NOW!"

"We're going, Hawk! We'll find him!" Flint gritted his teeth and took down two more Crimson Guards as they rounded the corner. "SNAKEEYES! Check those rooms!" The ninja moved to begin opening the doors further down, darting into one to dispatch several soldiers laying in wait. He emerged unscathed to check the next room.

Dusty's cry of triumph made Flint whirl and run down past the doors standing open. "Dusty! Where are you?"

"IN HERE!" The desert trooper sounded strained and Flint sped up. "Help me! I think he's dead!" He was trying to heft BeachHead's limp body up to get the chain off of his neck. "I can't get it.. I can't get the chain off.. help me!"

Flint reached to grab the lolling head by the hair and lifted it up. "Step back one step!" He jerked at the chain to loosen it and got it untangled from Beach's neck. "There.. put him down.. " Dusty laid him out and tugged at the cuffs. "Move.. " Flint took a firm grip on Beach's jaw and tilted his head back. "Come on BeachHead.. are you breathing?" A light shake got a wheezy groan. "He's breathing.. flip him over... let me get the cuffs off." A couple minutes later, Flint had picked the lock on the left cuff and wrenched it free. "Alright.. come on Beach.. hey.. come on.. "

Dusty slapped his face lightly. "Come on Beach.." When the limp body tensed and began to cough, the Joe grinned. "There you go. We got you.. come on.. " Flint and Dusty each took an arm to lift Beach to his feet. When he couldn't stand even with help, Dusty shook his head. "He's not gonna be able to walk. I got him." Bending, he slung the heavy Ranger over his shoulders. Holding one arm, he hooked his other around a knee to keep BeachHead in place across his back. "Let's go.. you'll have to cover us, Flint. Let's get out of here."

Flint nodded, trusting the slightly built infantryman to carry their teammate. He reached up to tweak his com unit. "Snakes, need you here now.. we're headed out. Kamakura, open the lane for us.. Lifeline.. stand by." He switched it to the second line. "Hawk.. we got him.. we're headed out now. Light resistance."

There was a groan from the Ranger. "Took ya'll long 'nough.."

Flint grimaced. "Shut up Beach... would you like us to take you back so you can show us how the 'best Ranger ever' gets himself free without help?"

The rough voice was hoarse and interspersed with coughing. "Naw.. wouldn't wanna show ya'll up like that.. gotta make ya feel useful.." Beach struggled to twist so he could see where they were headed and Dusty jerked his shoulders to prop him back into place.

Dusty sounded a little winded. "Beach.. stop moving around, you're heavy enough when you're still."

"Sorry.. " Beach forced his arm around Dusty's shoulder joint to hold himself in place as best he could. His hands wouldn't close and he could feel blood dripping off his fingers from his raw wrists. "Can't feel my hands.."

Dusty sucked in deep breaths. "Lifeline's on the plane.. he'll fix you up, no problem.. just try to think lighter thoughts, cause you're really heavy." Despite all the troopers training, carrying an extra two hundred plus pounds of dirty Ranger on his back was causing his legs to feel a little shakey.

"It's all muscle.." Beach let his head drop down as his bruised neck spasmed. "Ow.. "

Flint grinned. "Hang in there Beach."

The Ranger groaned loudly. "Lemme guess.. ya been waitin' to say that... ain't ya?"

"Oh yeah.. saved it just for you."

The trip back out of the compound was fairly straightforward. Kamakura and Roadblock had cleared out the exit corridors. Once Flint's team joined them, Roadblock took one look at Dusty and shook his head.

The machine gunner slung his weapon and motioned at him. "Give him here.. you're gonna fall out if you try to carry him all the way to the plane."

Their slender desert trooper twisted to let Beach down, but his legs couldn't hold him and he collapsed in a heap. He gritted his teeth in pain and snarled at Dusty. "Don't drop me!"

Dusty straightened up with an effort and cracked his back. "Sorry.. didn't mean to treat you like a old field pack, BeachHead."

Roadblock took one of his arms. "Alright.. up you go.." He easily got BeachHead arranged over his shoulders and then jerked his head at Flint. "Let's move. We need to get our Sergeant major back to base. Plus, Lifeline and Jinx might get antsy if we leave them at the plane too long."

Right on cue the communicator chimed softly. Flint clicked it on. "We're on our way Lifeline. Beach seems stable for now."

Lifeline sounded annoyed. "I should have come in, how certain are you as to his condition?"

Flint grunted and rolled his eyes at Kamakura who paced him. "He's breathing okay. He'll last until we get him to the plane."

The medic's tone rose. "Glad to hear you're able to diagnose now. Is he walking?"

"Hey.. I'm right here." Beach's voice was ignored.

Flint ducked down to look out at an intersection. "No, he's not walking. The poor guy's been standing for a week, we thought we'd give him a break and carry him a while." He waved the rest across, twisting to cover the corridor behind them.

"Ya'll could ask me how I am.." Beach's hoarse voice sounded annoyed.

Lifeline started to sound a bit peeved. "If he's not able to walk, he's not 'fine'. If he's been restrained for a week, he could have circulation issues, or blood clots breaking free."

Beach coughed. "Circulation and clots sound bad.. "

Flint just grunted. "We'll be there shortly." He clicked the com link off. "He's such a mother hen."

"Don't pick on our medic." Beach let his head hang again. "He's a danged good medic."

Dusty agreed as he was darting across a hallway and covering the lane of fire for them to cross. "Yeah.. he's the best. Watch that corner... clear... "

Flint triggered the com unit again. "Coming out.. friendly coming out.."

Jinx's voice sounded terse. "Clear.. come on out."

They emerged from the building and everyone moved quickly across open spaces, Kamakura and SnakeEyes splitting off to thread their way through the surrounding area searching for more Cobra operatives. Flint twisted to check behind them several times. "It's awfully quiet out here.. they're going to be gearing up fast to hit us. Get on the plane."

By the time they'd arrived at the plane, the engines were already warming up. Jinx was on post waiting and watching for any troops trying to sneak in. Other than a few Cobra vipers skulking behind crates, a bit reluctant to approach since several of their fellows lay dead from Jinx's rifle already, the airfield was secure. Jinx and Kamakura were all for going to take out the last vipers, but Flint pulled them in.

"Fall back to the plane.. we're booking it out of here." He watched from within feet of the transport plane, Roadblock climbing in while Lifeline assisted him.

Beach lifted his hoarse voice. "Aww.. let the ninjas go play.. danged vipers deserve some ninja stabby time."

Flint rolled his eyes and tilted his head. "Get him inside the plane Roadblock. Jinx.. Kamakura.. SnakeEyes.. fall back to the plane and board. We're rolling out in one minute."

* * *

Once they were airborne, Flint checked in with Hawk, reporting their status and transport while Lifeline tried to argue with his patient.

The medic was hovering between relieved and annoyed. He was on one knee beside the Ranger he'd gotten onto a stretcher. "Beach.. lie still and let me check you.."

"I'm tryin' to be still, dang it!" Beach writhed sideways anyway and groaned loudly. "It's cramps.. my legs and back are all spasmed."

Lifeline held his head still and checked his eyes. "Tell me what happened.. from the battlefield."

Beach groaned again. "Gawd.. I got blown up, woke up in a truck. They booted me in the head a few times I guess. One of my greenshirts was there.. dead. I couldn't see who. They knocked me out again and I woke up in the prison down there. Once they put that danged noose on me, I couldn't do nothin' but stand in one place. Ain't had nothin' but a little water since. I need some water.. and some food wouldn't hurt."

Lifeline nodded and turned to Dusty who crouched nearby. "Get some water.. and see if we have anything like bread." Turning back, he began running fingers over Beach's throat. "Looks like you're still showing some signs of concussion.. surprising since it's been almost a week. Have you been hit in the head in the last day or so?"

"Naw... it's been longer than that.. and it's been longer than a week..." Beach reached up with still numb hands to try to push the medic away. "Get offa me."

"Stop that.." When Lifeline grabbed his forearm, Beach yelped in pain. "Sorry.. I know, I know. Let me bandage up your wrists. It's been a week, Beach."

"It ain't been just a week!" The powerful Ranger was rapidly losing his battle to fend off the medic who was adroitly dodging the grasping hands to peel the grungy sweater off of him. "Ow!"

"Well, hold still. You look mostly okay.. just bruised up. The muscle spasms will ease.. if you would hold still and let me help I can make some of it stop. I'm going to give you a muscle relaxer first." Lifeline shook his head. "If you don't stop fighting with me I'm going to strap you to the stretcher. Got it?"

"I'd like to see ya try!" The dirty face tilted to look at Flint when he came back. "Flint! Tell this useless medic it's been longer than a week!"

Flint crouched down next to him and paused a moment before he spoke softly. "Beach.. it's only been a week. That window you watched wasn't to the outside. They were fooling you with it.. it was just six hours, not a full day." Beach started cursing. "Yeah.. I know. Sorry. We thought you'd been buried in the explosion.. two greenshirts saw you there just before that jet hit the ground and went up in the fireball. If we'd even suspected you'd been taken captive, we'd have been on it."

Beach suddenly stopped cursing. "Does.. does CoverGirl know I ain't dead?"

"Yeah.. we told her. The whole Pit was ready to come after you when we found out Cobra had you." Flint nodded slightly. "Can't let Cobra keep our Sergeant major.. we've invested too much time housebreaking you."

Beach's eyes narrowed. "Ya know that means I gotta pee on yer desk when I get back to the Pit, right?"

Flint made a face. "Well.. I don't think you'll be able to walk for a couple days.. I'll scotchgard it good." He gave a light pat to one newly bared shoulder as Lifeline finally managed to get the sweater peeled off. "Glad to have you back." He moved up to start debriefing the three ninja.

Beach fought to keep his eyes open, still in pain from the spasmed muscles. The sharp prick of a needle into his arm made him jerk which made Lifeline grumble softly. "What ya givin' me?"

"Muscle relaxer.. hold still." The second stick stayed in place and Lifeline added the IV line. "I'm going to give you fluids, but.. here's Dusty with some water.."

Dusty bent to hand the bottle to the medic. "No bread.. found a pack of vanilla wafers though."

Beach opened his eyes at that. "I like nilla wafers." His gaze fixed on the crumpled bag in Dusty's hand.

Lifeline raised an eyebrow. "I bet you do. Here.. drink some water.." He held Beach's head to let him gulp down a few swallows. "If you keep the water down I'll let you have a cookie. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut up and gimme a danged cookie!" Beach really tried to reach for one but his arm simply cramped as he tried to move it and his fingers refused to work anyway. "Dang it! I can smeeeeell them!"

Lifeline sighed at the pitiful tone. "If you throw up on me, I'll be really really peeved." Breaking one cookie in half he gave the Ranger part and watched him give a blissful sigh. "Tastes good?"

"Never hadda better half of a stale cookie. I'm starving." Beach managed to reach for the other half, hooking his fingers over Lifeline's wrist. "Come on.. I ain't gonna puke it up.. "

"Alright alright.. don't bite me!" Lifeline got his fingers out of the way in time and rolled the small pack of cookies up and tossed them aside into a seat. "Like trying to feed a crocodile! That's it.. one cookie. You can have more water." He wasn't about to feed someone who'd been starved for a week more than tiny amounts.

Beach looked over towards the seats where the package had disappeared. "Come on!" When Lifeline refused, he snorted angrily. "You just wanna torment me." Despite his attempts to stay annoyed, he was quickly fading. "My legs hurt."

"I bet they do. The muscle relaxer will make the spasms ease off." Lifeline reached to knead Beach's thigh muscles, forcing them to unknot and ignored all of the fading protests. "You're going to be sore when you wake up."

Beach snorted softly as his eyes closed. "I ain't gonna go to sleep.. not sleepy."

"Yeah I know. Just checking your eyelids for cracks." Lifeline watched him slide into something between unconsciousness and sleep. The twitching muscles eventually stopped and he covered him with a blanket. Moving back up to the front he waited for Flint to look at him. "He's resting."

"Injuries?"

"Torn muscles probably, a half-healed concussion or possibly skull fracture. With some rest and time, he'll be fine. He's exhausted, half-starved and dehydrated, all easily fixable." Lifeline rubbed his eye a little bit and then nudged his glasses back into place.

Flint nodded. "Good. He's tough, he'll be fine. No serious injuries to any of the team, we got out clean. Hawk should be pleased."

Roadblock set the butt of his heavy .50cal gun on the floor and leaned on it as the plane banked to the left. "Shoot.. everyone will be pleased.. everyone but Beach, cause he ain't pleased at nothing."

Dusty stretched his arm and shook it slightly. "Oh Beach will be pleased. He just won't admit it. That's just how he is."

* * *

Beach protested weakly as they were unloading him from the plane back at the Pit. He'd tried to argue for trying to walk out, only to be strapped onto his stretcher. Lifeline hefted one end of the litter and glared at him.

"I don't know how you managed to crawl over the seats to get that bag of cookies..."

He grinned despite his exhaustion and pain. "Don't get 'tween a Ranger and his nilla wafers..."

His medic shook his head. "I told you not to.. for a REASON! I didn't want you throwing up."

"Still tasted good goin' down. And I said fer ya to move, not like I aimed to vomit on ya.."

"You're impossible." Lifeline gave up. He didn't expect reasonable behavior from BeachHead at the best of times anyway, much less while he was half-incoherent this way. "We're in the motorpool, Beach. Almost there."

"I can see that, I ain't half blind like you are, you know." BeachHead's sniping attacks had gotten worse as time went on. Lifeline tilted his head to glare through his glasses at him. "Sorry.. don't stab me with no unnecessary needles.. 'kay?"

"I am gonna stab you with needles if you aren't nice. Can you move your hands yet?" Lifeline and Dusty moved the stretcher to the hydraulic lift and set it down on the floor.

Beach raised up both hands to hesitantly close the fingers a few times. "Yeah.. hurts, but I can move 'em." The white bandages on both wrists were already stained with seeping blood. His voice sounded strangled and Lifeline winced at the croaking noise. "Can I have more water?"

Lifeline nodded at Dusty who pulled out a partial bottle of water to offer the exhausted Ranger. Dusty held the bottle carefully. "Here you go. Don't drink too fast, I don't want you to puke on me like you did Lifeline."

Water consumed, Beach snorted softly at him. "No pukin'.. that's no fun. When do I getta sleep?"

Lifeline flicked at his nose. "Not yet. Hawk said he'd meet us in the infirmary so you want to stay awake to talk to him.. just a few minutes." Beach took a deep breath then jerked when his two teammates lifted the stretcher and surprised him. "Easy.."

"Well.. don't drop me no more!" Beach grumbled a few times and fell asleep anyway. He woke up when they arrived in the infirmary and placed him onto an exam table. "Hey.. ow.. OW!"

Doc bent over him and brushed his arm aside when he grasped at the air, a little paniced and confused. "Stop fighting us.. you're fine. Are you awake?"

"Yeah.. ya'll won't let me rest.. just danged well leave me fer Cobra next time.. they was gonna let me sleep.." Beach took a deep breath automatically when Doc put a cold stethoscope on his chest. "I'm fine.. just tired and my muscles are all crampin' and sore."

Doc nodded and gave him a thorough check up anyway, jostling him slightly every so often and waking him back up. It took only a few seconds of not requiring a response for the Ranger to fall asleep. Each time he woke up Beach complained and cursed at them all over again. When Hawk appeared, Doc gave him a quick report.

"... mostly bruises and abrasions, slight concussion. We'll get him cleaned up, let him rest for about a week and he'll be back to normal. He's not going to be able to walk for a couple days. Probably strained every muscle in his legs and back. He'll heal up quickly though. Nothing serious." Doc shook his head. "If we can keep him down long enough, he's already tried to get up in the plane."

Beach rallied slightly to open his eyes. "Ah got the nilla wafers..." His half-sleepy tone as he croaked sounded pleased.

Lifeline patted him. "Yes you did. Then you puked them up on me."

"Ah did that too..." Beach coughed slightly and suddenly focused on Hawk. "General Hawk!" He struggled to sit up. "Sorry sir!" Hawk joined Doc in pressing him flat again. "Sir.." Beach managed a salute while flat on his back and only half able to raise his arm up.

Hawk pushed his hand back down. "Stand down, Sergeant major. You're to rest and obey Doc and Lifeline."

Beach struggled to keep his eyes open and blinked at him. "I gotta do whut they say.. got it. Tell 'em to gimme something to eat though.." He paused then added. "Sir."

Hawk shook his head and smiled. "I'm sure they'll feed you as soon as they can."

"Hoo-kay, sir." Beach opened his eyes very wide, then relaxed his face again. "Ow.. my eyebrows hurt. Didja really think I was dead?"

Hawk sighed. "Yes.. we did. I'm glad we were wrong. Can you tell us anything of use about the Cobra troops? Did they interrogate you?"

A loud snort. "They asked a few questions and I cussed at them and kicked a few of them. I didn't give 'em nothin', no worries, sir." He looked away for a moment. "Mostly.. they was just waitin' fer me to hang myself. Apparently Ace has a counterpart to run bettin' pools fer Cobra."

A sympathetic hand rested on his arm briefly. "You're back with us now though. And it would take a Cobra to be dumb enough to bet against you. Now you rest, do what you're told." He turned to go and stopped briefly. "And don't throw up cookies on Lifeline. He really doesn't like that apparently."

"Ah noticed.. " Beach was losing the battle to stay conscious again and struggled to keep his eyes open.

Hawk noticed and patted him. "Alright.. I'm leaving, I'll send Duke to check on you tomorrow." He left, nodding to the newly arrived CoverGirl in a bland uninterested manner he'd been practicing ever since he put GI Joe together.

She poked her head in hesitantly. "Can I come in?" She twisted her hands anxiously as she peered at the medic working over the prone Ranger.

Beach twisted his face around to look for her. "Hey Barbie... didja bring food?"

CoverGirl walked to his side. "No, I didn't realize you'd already gone to the tribute part of your recovery."

Lifeline shushed at him. "No soliciting food behind my back. Are you ready to get moved to a bed? Then you can rest as long as you like."

BeachHead groaned and reached upwards. "Fine fine.. whatever.. help me up.."

"You're not going to be able to get up, we're going to move you." Lifeline listened to the griping and fussing and insistence that he could indeed move himself. Finally he raised his hands. "Fine.. sit up." He crossed his arms and waited while Beach grunted and struggled fruitlessly. "When you give up.. let me know."

"Rangers... ungggh... don't never.. gaaah... give up." Beach finally collapsed back, having achieved all of half a dozen inches at best. "Alright... I guess I should let ya'll do your job insteada me doin' it for you." The sheepish tone made CoverGirl exchange an amused look with Lifeline.

Lifeline shooed CoverGirl out of the way. "Okay.. out for a minute. Stretcher.. get the other side."

* * *

By the time CoverGirl was allowed to return, Lifeline was back to fussing at Beach about food. "No.. I told you that you could have broth or juice, not a burger and certainly not 'a couple MREs'."

"Yer jus' bein' cruel.." Beach protested weakly.

"Yes.. well.. look, I'm letting CoverGirl visit." Lifeline sounded like he was trying to be as reasonable as possible.

BeachHead snorted at him. "Still bein' cruel... she's gonna harass me." The Ranger twisted to see her standing with crossed arms. "Ahhh, oops.. hi Courtney."

"Hi Beach. Are you ready for me to 'harass' you?" She smiled at his discomfort.

"Umm.. yeah... harass away." He solved her anger by holding out a hand towards her. Unable to resist, she stepped up closer and twined her fingers through his. He tugged her up to the side of the bed. "Sorry."

"Oh.. I guess I'll forgive you.. as long as you promise not to pretend to be dead again." She squeezed his fingers and he winced. "Sorry.. is your hand hurt?"

"There ain't no part of me that don't hurt." Even after Lifeline had cleaned up all the scrapes and stripped him out of filthy clothing, Beach still felt confined by even the bandages around his wrists. He reached up to touch his neck gingerly, fingering the livid bruises. "Ain't got much voice right now neither."

She brushed the backs of her fingers across his cheek lightly. "I'm sorry you hurt, you should rest."

"Yeah.. I'd be able to rest if'n the sadistic medic would feed me first." Beach glared at Lifeline.

"I tooold you, broth or juice." The medic was showing no sign of giving in. "You want some broth? By the time I order you up a cup of broth and it gets here, I'll have to wake you up to let you drink it. Do you want some or do you want to wait?"

"I'unno." Beach sounded sulky.

"So, no you want to whine about it some more until you go to sleep then you'll complain that I didn't bring you any when you wake up tomorrow?"

"Yeah.. that sounds good to me." Beach smirked as Lifeline stalked out. He turned his head to gaze sleepily at CoverGirl instead. "I'm gonna go to sleep.. fer about three days. When I wake up, maybe my nose muscles won't hurt no more. I swear, I hurt in places I didn't know I had."

She let him twist his fingers around hers. "You sleep.. when you wake up you'll have plenty of time to gripe at everyone. Then I'll sneak you some cookies in so you can eat them and throw them up on Lifeline, just for fun."

He grinned as his eyes went hazy. "That's mah gal... always lookin' out fer me.." Heavy eyes closed finally and he relaxed and let himself fade into sleep, reassured that he was home safe where he belonged.

* * *

End. Hope it was entertaining, if not fun. Thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed!


End file.
